


For Art's Sake II

by ryukoishida



Series: State of the Art [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Mangaka AU, chief editor!Makoto, college swimmer!Rin, editor!Haru, mangaka!Sousuke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks after they met at a book signing event, Sousuke, who publishes a fantasy shoujo manga series under a female penname, and Rin, who’s a competing swimmer for the university he’s attending and a closet fan of Sousuke’s work, are finally meeting up for their first date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Art's Sake II

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of the mangaka!Sousuke AU I started as a joke sometime ago. Featuring college swimmer!Rin, editor!Haru, and editor-in-chief!Makoto.

“ ­­––sei? Yamazaki-sensei? Yamazaki Sousuke-kun!”

 

The sketching pencil he’s been twirling restlessly between his fingers flies out of his grasp when he hears his editor’s impatient growl barreling through the haze of his mind, knocking out whatever – or rather, _whoever_ – has been drilling a hole in his subconscious as his attention drifts from his work, which has been consisting of an outline for the next chapter of _Draconic Origins_ and doodling a figure with dishevelled red hair and intense eyes of a wine-red shade.

 

"Isn't it part of the contract that you have to keep my mangaka identity a secret, Nanase-san?"

 

"It's part of  _your_  contract," his editor clarifies with a snort. "Besides, I'm at home right now, so it's not like anyone will be able to eavesdrop."

 

Sousuke cannot find as adequate comeback for that, and Nanase knows.

 

"What's got your head up in the clouds, then?"

 

"What do you mean?" Sousuke's tone takes a sharp and defensive turn.

 

"I've told you to redraw the panels from page 10 to 12 because the dialogue is dragging the rest of the chapter down," Nanase explains in his aloof yet collected tone, but then a hint of teasing amusement seeps into his voice when he adds, "and then you replied with a 'yeah sure'. You always throw a tantrum when I tell you to redo the dialogue, so I'll ask again: what's wrong?"

 

"Nothing!" Sousuke insists, bending down to pick up his forlorn drawing utensil before leaning back against his chair with an audible sigh and silently cursing the observant nature of his editor. As his gaze once again shifts to the doodle he’s devoted the last twenty minutes on instead of drafting his outline, the dark-haired mangaka picks up the piece of paper, crumples it into a ball with great zeal as if it had personally offended him, and throws it at the vague direction of where a wastebasket sits in the corner of his work studio.

 

He misses by about two inches, and he swerves his chair to face his desk, pen once again rolling between his ink-stained fingers.

 

"Also, I don't throw tantrums. I'm fighting for my right as an artist to draw the story as I see fit."

 

There's little real fire behind his words, and Sousuke wonders what's happened - wonders vaguely if this has anything to do with the red-haired man who’s texted him with a positive reply the day after Sousuke’s given him the watercolour postcard with his message, inviting him to a coffee date, and contact number hastily scrawled on the back of it. 

 

It has been two weeks since Rin’s first text, and somehow, between Sousuke’s book tour schedule and deadlines, and Rin’s school work and swim practice, the two have yet to find a time to meet up, so all they can do for the moment is exchanging texts. Even a phone call seems too presumptuous; after all, they’ve only had a brief conversation during one of Sousuke’s book-signing sessions, and they couldn’t have talked for more than five minutes that time. It doesn’t stop him from constantly staring at the screen of his smartphone, Rin’s number stamped in solid black and the green “call” button mocking him and his indecisiveness.

  

Sousuke figures he must have missed whatever Nanase has just said again because he can hear his editor heaves another frustrated sigh on the other end of the line.

 

He doesn't voice it out much - if at all - but he's truly thankful for all the time and effort that Nanase Haruka has spent on his manuscripts for the past two years. At the time, Sousuke had just started out as a new artist for Moonstone Magazine, a newly-established bi-weekly shoujo manga serialization that publishes works of romance combined with heavy fantasy and sci-fi elements.

 

After obtaining third place in Optic Publishing’s prestigious newcomer award in the manga category, Sousuke expanded on his award-winning one-shot, "Anfroy and Galienne", and debuted his first chapter of  _Draconic Origins_ , which immediately caused the magazine to become an instant best-seller within the shoujo manga category after a few weeks' run. Soon, the recent high school graduate found himself being offered a contract to publish under the penname Yamazaki Souka and assurances that his works would be republished in tankōban volumes if his success continued.

 

He was still fresh back then, and clueless about social courtesies and mannerisms when it came to working closely with an editor. 

 

His intimidating visage, astounding height and physical build, and grating personality, as well as his unyielding attitude concerning his manuscripts, made him an unpopular artist to work with and an editor's absolute nightmare. 

 

He went through three different editors within half a year, all of them claiming that the 18-year-old manga artist was too haughty for a newcomer and was impossible to reason with. It was also around this time that a new editor-in-chief was hired when the present one suddenly resigned due to a whirlwind marriage and a sudden move to Hong Kong with his wife. With a new person in charge of the editorial department also came a series of significant internal reconstructions and some personnel changes. 

 

The chief editor held an informal meeting with Sousuke, who had released two volumes of tankōban at this point in time; he was gradually climbing up the readership popularity charts and had earned a small but dedicated group of fans. After their brief but informative talk, the chief editor, who seemed quite young for the position but at least Sousuke had the propriety to hold his tongue for once, assigned him a new editor. Sousuke doubted this one would last more than a month, but the leader of Moonstone's editorial department had assured him - knowing green eyes flashing sharply though his lips are curled up in a pleasant enough smile - that this particular editor should be a perfect match for Sousuke.

 

In some ways, he wasn't exactly wrong. Nanase Haruka is… something else entirely. From his intelligent azure eyes that are constantly surrounded by dark circles as if he never gets enough sleep to his amazing attention to details without even seeming to need to try, Nanase will nitpick the stubborn mangaka until he deems the manuscript good enough to hand in to the printers. They almost always never see eye-to-eye when it comes to reaching an equilibrium between what the audience likes and Sousuke's own personal artistry preferences, but even the manga artist has to admit that Nanase is one of the most skillful and dedicated individual in the editorial department.

 

He’ll never admit this, but Sousuke really appreciates all that Nanase has done. Not that Nanase needs to hear this from him.  

 

"Do I have to sic our editor-in-chief on you?" Nanase asks. The threat is clearly there even through his thread-thin voice, but Sousuke honestly doesn’t have the time or the mental energy to deal with both his eccentric editor and the smiling-but-will-personally-hunt-you-down-if-you-dare-miss-the-deadline-for-no-good-reason chief editor.

 

“Look, I’ll make changes on those panels you told me about. Just… please keep Tachibana-san far, far away from this and leave me alone for the next forty-eight hours. Deal?”  

 

“Make sure you deliver those pages before 11a.m. on Wednesday then,” is the editor’s last reminder before he bids his goodbye.

 

When he places his phone down with unnecessary force, Sousuke realizes that it’s already close to 9 p.m. and that he’s done less work than he’s previously planned for today. His stomach, growling in protest, is not helping matters. Other than the cup noodle and the two mugs of coffee he’s forced himself to consume six hours ago, he has eaten nothing substantial enough to be called a meal. He half-considers warming up the leftover yakisoba in his fridge for dinner – it has veggies and chicken and everything! – and then recalls with a disgruntled frown that that takeout box has been sitting stagnant for over a week.

 

He may be procrastinating from work for now, but he really doesn’t want to end up in the hospital due to food poisoning. He has more sense than that, at least.   

 

He thinks about heading out to the closest convenience store to pick up a bento box, but the thought of returning to this gloomy studio – for in this dim room with minimal decorations, there are only stacks upon stacks of past manuscripts loosely organized by date and numerous volumes of mangas lined along wooden shelves, and only the corner of the room where his draft table sits is the most brightly lit – to eat by himself makes him hesitate.

 

Slumping down on his chair, he picks up his phone and opens up the series of texts he’s been exchanging with Rin for the past few weeks. The last message was sent by the redhead two days ago. Sousuke had meant to reply when he had the chance but before he knew it, he had been swept up by the onslaught of work and the subsequent periods of slumber.

 

He glances at the time again, and decides he’s too tired to be overthinking this for the umpteenth time.

 

‘Fuck it,’ he thinks with a wry smile, pushes his chair away from his table – work will have to wait until later tonight – and taps busily on his phone’s keyboard.

 

-

 

Matsuoka Rin has just put his phone down after a half-hour-long call with his younger sister, who has once again been pestering him about his supposedly date with her mangaka idol Yamazaki Souka. He knew he shouldn’t have told her about his encounter with the popular and unexpectedly male manga artist in detail. Even Gou was surprised after finding out that one of her favourite manga artists was publishing under a pen name, and after Rin had hesitantly shown her the watercolour postcard that Sousuke had given him as an extra gift at the book signing event that Gou had practically forced him to attend in her place, his sister had been squealing about the hand-written invitation ever since.

 

She has also, of course, made Rin promise to ask Sousuke a series of questions pertaining to the plot and characters of _Draconic Origins_ when he gets a chance. She’s even sent him a list over e-mail in case he forgets.      

 

Rin is about to continue his studies for his biology midterms when his phone buzzes for the second time this evening.

 

His expression brightens visibly when he sees the name that pops up on his screen, and he swears his hand is not shaking in anticipation when he taps on the text bubble.

 

_Good evening. This might be a bit out of the blue, but would you like to come out for a_

_late dinner or drink? - Yamazaki_

 

“Took you long enough,” Rin murmurs with a small grin as he taps out a reply.

 

Less than a minute later, his phone pings cheerily again with the address of the izakaya they will meet up at. Now all he needs to do is figure out which pair of jeans would make his legs look amazing without being too indecent.  

 

-

 

Sousuke keeps reassuring himself that this silence? It’s not awkward at all. He traces the condensation on his beer glass as his eyes scan half-heartedly at the menu pinned all over the walls before he finds himself drawn to the man sitting next to him on the adjacent bar stool. It’s late enough into the night that the dinner crowd has already dispersed, so that the sparse patrons still loitering in the warmly-lit pub are half way to being drunk and wishing to chase down the day’s exhaustion and irritation with more drinks and venting to their friends.

 

They have met up in front of the izakaya close to the university train station at the designated time. Matsuoka Rin is even more beautiful than he last remembers, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, bright crimson hair that frames his elven features swaying in the autumn breeze, bright eyes glimmering with what Sousuke hopes to be excitement, and –– goddamnit, are those jeans even legal?

 

Sousuke swallows at the approaching figure and forces himself to remember to smile. Their hands clasp in a firm handshake as they greet each other with careful politeness and slightly flushed cheeks before they step into the pub.

 

“Do you usually have dinner this late?” Rin breaks the silence at last, his mouth easily curving up into a curious smile when he glances towards his companion.

 

“It’s hard to have regularly-timed meals with this job,” Sousuke replies, and even as he finds himself staring unabashedly at the lovely way the redhead’s lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle of his drink and –– why is this so distracting and why has he stopped talking? “And um. I’m one of those people who can push through all-nighters and subsist on only caffeine and energy bars, which really messes up my sleeping and eating schedule.”

 

“Can’t be good for your health though, right?”

 

For a manga artist, however, Sousuke appears to be quite fit, his forearms looking especially delectable when he rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows as they settle into their seats earlier. The man’s well-tailored, light-blue collared shirt accentuates his toned biceps and torso, and Rin attempts to drive his thoughts away from more inappropriate image with only very limited success.

 

“What about you? Low alcohol tolerance?” Sousuke looks pointedly at the other man’s drink, his finger occasionally tapping rhythmically against the glass. Rin has ordered the beer with the lowest alcohol content.

 

“Ah, I compete as a member of my university’s swim team,” Rin scratches the back of his neck self-consciously with an abashed but proud grin, “so the coach is very strict about our diet.”

 

At the mention of swimming, it seems like a switch within Sousuke has been flicked on as he leans in closer, his elbow almost touching Rin’s on the wooden counter, but they have to halt their conversation briefly when the server comes to take their order.

 

By the time the plates of karaage and various types of kushiyaki are placed before them, the scent of grilled meat and salty grease drifting teasingly around them, and they start to dig in, the awkward ambiance that has been hanging between them seems to dissipate as they take swigs from their drinks with more abandon than usual. But the alcohol has done the trick and loosen up their tongues and inhibitions, which makes conversation flow more easily and smoothly soon after.

 

“Yamazaki-sensei, you looked like you were about to say something after I mentioned swimming.” Rin picks up a skewer of thinly-sliced beef tongue and begins to nibble on it, though his attentive claret gaze remains on Sousuke’s figure.

 

“Oh, it’s just,” the dark-haired man picks up his glass, considers taking a sip because as much as he loves swimming, it’s a topic that still brings up surges of unpleasant memories and bitter regret at the back of his tongue. Yet when he glances up to see Rin waiting expectantly for his answer, Sousuke realizes that he doesn’t mind sharing this part of himself with this not-quite-stranger at all. “I used to swim competitively, too. In junior high.”

 

“Oh? Which stroke?” Rin’s back straightens a little and he shifts a little closer in his enthusiasm to hear more. His elbow is slightly knocking into Sousuke’s but neither of them minds the contact.

 

“Butterfly.” Sousuke doesn’t elaborate – doesn’t want to bring up his past when swimming had once consumed his everything and the aspect of drawing manga for a living was unthinkable – but Rin seems to have sensed his reluctance to continue this topic and so he cleverly switches to another conversation thread.  

 

“So, why shoujo manga? Don’t get me wrong. I love _Draconic Origins_ and how you deal with the protagonists’ relationship in addition to the complicated plot, but what got you started in that genre?”

 

Rin’s pretty certain that this is in Gou’s long list of questions, but he’s curious about it as well. Rin may not be an avid manga reader like his younger sister, but it’s certainly rare to find male authors in the shoujo genre.

 

“I wasn’t specifically tailoring my story for a particular group of audience, per se,” Sousuke tells him after he has swallowed a mouthful of chicken. “After I’ve stopped swimming, I dedicated most of my free time working on manga and improving my drawing skills. I’ve always been bad with writing dialogues, so I tried to go with genres that require more action, but then I realized that characterization can’t be achieved strictly through action alone. So I started doing research and read as many different genres as possible, only to find that well-written shoujo manga, though lacking in action sequences, build their characters and relationships through carefully constructed dialogue.

 

“So I just… experimented a lot, I suppose, and it just so happened that the only one-shot I was satisfied with at the time and ended up sending to a manga contest held by Optic Publishing received third place. They’ve decided that my story best falls under the shoujo category, so they placed me with Moonstone, and my work has been serialized in that magazine since then.”

 

“You started young, huh?”

 

“I guess,” Sousuke shrugs, hiding his embarrassment behind his glass of beer. It usually takes either a lot of alcohol or his best friend’s incessant cajoling before Sousuke is willing to make decent conversation with others, but with Rin sitting so close to him, the laughter bubbling out and words just flowing past his lips so easily as the red-haired man listens with utter attention, Sousuke becomes much more talkative than usual.

 

“How old are you, if you don’t mind telling me?”

 

“I just turned twenty last month.”

 

“Same as me then,” Rin nods to himself before taking another sip from his beer bottle. Sousuke figures that’s the end of that topic, and picks up his chopsticks to resume eating.

 

For the remaining of their evening, they take turns asking each other questions, most of them consisting of Rin carrying out his brotherly duties as he poses a seemingly endless list of questions that Gou has composed. Sousuke is pleased to answer them though, since he’s always delighted to talk about his work with people who are just as enthusiastic about it as he is, and he tells Rin that if Gou wishes to, she can always e-mail him with more questions.

 

In return, Sousuke urges Rin to tell him more about his college classes and his adventures with his teammates when they travel to different cities for their competitions. From the way Rin fervently describes the smallest of details to the man’s carefree and contagious laughter as the little alcohol he’s consumed adds a lovely blush over his milky complexion, Matsuoka Rin’s unannounced arrival into his life is nothing short of a miracle, and he wants to keep doing this – whatever _this_ is.

 

He can’t put a label on this yet – not until he’s certain Rin wants the same thing.

 

All he needs to do is ask.

 

-

 

Sousuke insists on walking Rin home since his place is closer to the izakaya; Rin doesn’t put up much of a fight.

 

“It’s amazing though,” Rin continues after their previous conversation about their favourite music halts to a pleasant stop, and he turns to face him with an open and honest grin. The flush along his cheekbones has deepen from the chilly air, and Sousuke’s hand itches for a pencil so that he can sketch his companion’s expression at this very moment: bright crimson hair fluttering in a halo, dark claret eyes focusing only on him and him alone, and those sensuous lips, invitingly red, curving up in such a disarming smile.

 

“Hmm?” Sousuke tilts his head in question, his hands stuffed deeper into his jacket pockets as late night breeze tears past them.

 

“That you are already able to achieve so much at your age,” Rin explains.

 

“It’s nothing to boast of. Drawing manga wasn’t my ideal career,” Sousuke admits, biting his lower lip as he turns away a little. But he doesn’t regret the path he’s chosen, either. When life shuts one door in his face, he just needs to create another one; it has been so simple, but it has taken Sousuke awhile to figure it out.

 

He notices that they’ve stopped in front of an aging apartment complex that houses about six families. It’s not exactly in the run-down parts of town, but the rent and utilities in this area are perfect for a college student with a part-time job. All of the windows in the building are dark, and the only source of light comes from the flickering street lamps and the security lights that blink on when they venture near the steps to Rin’s home.  

 

“Well, I’m glad you decided to pursue it anyway, or we’ll –– I mean ––” Rin stops immediately when he realizes belatedly what he’s about to say and claps his hand over his mouth, to Sousuke’s amusement.

 

“Or…?” Sousuke wills him to keep going, sea-green eyes glittering with mirth as he takes a small step closer, crowding the shorter man against the front door.

 

Maybe he’s a little bit drunk after all, Sousuke muses, but Rin’s not pushing him away, and that’s always a good sign.

 

Rin’s hand is still covering his mouth when he utters the next words in a hushed tone, so that Sousuke has to lean in even closer to catch what he’s saying, “Or we’d never have a chance to meet each other like this… and you know, your fans will never be able to read your wonderful series… and things like that.”

 

A low chuckle bursts past Sousuke’s throat, and he doesn’t try to disguise it, not even when Rin sends him his best murderous glare.

 

“I’m sorry, Matsuoka-san. You’re just too…”

 

“Too…?” Rin raises his brows, daring him to continue.

 

“Too adorable,” Sousuke finally settles with that apt description, and before Rin even has a chance to open his mouth to protest (that he didn’t put on that particular pair of jeans that Gou has deemed a “godsend” or “devil’s handiwork” just to be called “adorable” by his not-crush), Sousuke is kissing him, a hand winding to the back of his neck and keeping him steady.

 

His heartbeat quickens when he feels Sousuke’s slightly chapped lips plush and hot against his own, his own hands taking a moment to hesitate before he settles them around the mangaka’s hips and gripping his shirt, and he opens his mouth with a soft moan to welcome the heat and Sousuke’s tongue as he delves in vicariously to taste. When Sousuke runs his fingers gently through his hair, and then pulls on the strands lightly to kiss him at a better angle, Rin starts at the pleasurable pain that stems from there, and he nips at the other man’s lower lip in retaliation, earning a stifled growl in return.   

 

The kiss they share is messy and unrefined, as expected from two drunken men, but Rin wants more - needs more; he wants to see the composed artist falls apart because of him, but he also wants to spend more time talking with him and getting to know him better. This is definitely not what he’s signed up for when he begrudgingly let Gou bullied him into attending Sousuke’s autograph session two weeks ago, but he should probably remember to thank his sister afterwards if everything works out.

 

“Yamazaki…sensei,” Rin pulls away first, face flushed a lovely pink, lips kiss-swollen, and his breaths are hitched as if he’s been submerged in the water for too long, “we should stop before the neighbors see us.”

 

“Mm,” Sousuke nods, sea-green eyes glazed over with want but all he does is slip Rin’s smaller hands into his own as he waits for Rin, who’s nervously staring at the ground and gnawing his lower lip with his teeth, to say more.

 

“Do you – um – do you maybe want to come inside? For a cup of tea, I mean? Or, or not! Not that I’m insinuating other activities or anything. Oh god I’m embarrassing myself right now, aren’t I?” He pulls his hands out of Sousuke’s warm grasp and buries his face burning face into his palms with the last few words muffled.     

 

Half of Sousuke wants to say “yes please” without wanting to seem too eager, but the more rational part of him informs him that he still has a pile of work waiting at home – his gloomy, lonely, without-a-Matsuoka-Rin home.

 

With an unwavering gaze, the dark-haired mangaka brings up his hand and traces Rin’s cheekbone softly with his thumb before tucking a lock of his red hair behind the curve of his ear. He places a chaste kiss on the spot where his finger has just touched, and finally takes a step back, a gentle smile softening his usually intimidating features.

 

“As much as I’d like to come in, I have to hand in my manuscript in less than 48 hours,” Sousuke begins, and he can already see disappointment settling in the slight pout of Rin’s lips. “But I hope you’ll let me take you out on another date at a later time; that is, if you’d still like to go out with me?”

 

Rin blinks owlishly at him for a good two seconds before he flies straight into his arms, nodding vigorously as he winds his arms around Sousuke’s frame in a tight but brief embrace.

 

“Ah, sorry. I got a little excited there,” Rin quickly steps away, the warmth on his cheeks having spread to the tips of his ears and his neck.

 

“Adorable,” Sousuke laughs again and ruffles Rin’s hair teasingly.

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are too.”

 

“Am not!”

 

“I’ll text you when my editor decides to spare my life for this week.”

 

“You better!”

 

When the door closes behind him, Sousuke begins to make his way home. His studio is about five stations away, but he decides that taking a nice, leisurely walk tonight might not be such a bad idea either.


End file.
